


Confession

by r_lee



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_lee/pseuds/r_lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she landed on Callisto, the last thing Julia expected to do was talk about <i>him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anythingbutblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutblue/gifts).



Julia couldn't remember the last time she'd made a snowman. She'd certainly never expected to make one again, but once she started, it was almost impossible to stop. She and Gren were certainly causing a scene because laughter came at a premium in a place as poor and downtrodden as Blue Crow. When she'd first arrived she thought Callisto was too cold for laughter. Then she made her way into a cozy-looking bar and took a seat and listened to the music, the sweet slow jazz, and remembered that despite the harshness of life, beauty was everywhere.

As the notes of the night's last song played out, she looked up from her drink but never dropped her impassivity. That was a song she knew, and running into things she knew always gave her pause because they always came with a connection, welcome or not, to her past. That past was the one thing she'd been trying to leave behind for the sake of survival. Before the song ended she made an escape from the bar until the situation could be assessed. Coincidence? Maybe. Still, she felt the weight of the saxophone player's eyes on her as she left.

That night, in her tiny hovel of a hotel room, she replayed all those moments with Vicious. He wasn't the sentimental sort and neither was she -- their lifestyle didn't afford it -- but that had been their song and she'd had the music box commissioned for him at some expense. She never anticipated he'd take it with him when he left for Titan, but one of the things she appreciated most about Vicious were his moments of unpredictability. She'd been surprised after he left when she found the gift box empty. That he'd taken the music box with him put a smile on her face and a small lightness in her step. They never talked of love, but every hint of it was something to treasure.

All of that was a long time ago, and anything resembling love for him had been destroyed. She couldn't see the connection between the song and the sax player other than he played it. She and Vicious hadn't owned rights to the melody exclusively. Songs were songs and coincidences happened, but in her experience coincidences were dangerous things. She'd go back to that same jazz club until she could uncover the connection. Vicious had a flair for the dramatic and she would never put a set-up past him, but there had been no hint of him in the area.

Five days. She gave herself five days. On the fourth, the sax player joined her at the bar after his set. He was sweet and filled with flattery, coy and playful, and the flirtation lit her up inside. Her heart had been dead since she left Mars and she'd thought she could go it alone but spending time with Gren made her happy. It wasn't love, at least not of the romantic variety. It was companionship, and he seemed to crave it equally. 

Her self-imposed five-day limit stretched on. She couldn't give it too long; staying in any one place was the equivalent of signing her own death warrant and she knew that. Callisto felt safe enough for a little lingering, though. She found out Gren had been on Titan with Vicious. There was the connection, but it was entirely innocent on Gren's part. His innocence and optimism broke her heart. What he'd been through was unimaginably cruel and unfair, but she knew a little bit about things being unfair herself. He had a need to talk and she had a need to listen, to absorb, to form a picture of the man Vicious had been on Titan. She didn't like what she heard, but there was no changing the past. 

The day Gren suggested building a snowman together, she laughed aloud for the first time in months. Gloves and earmuffs and scarves and jackets on against the cold, they made their way to one of Blue Crow's pointless small parks and played. She hadn't had the luxury of play in years. She hadn't had childlike _fun_ in years. As the snowman came together -- Gren was much stronger than he looked, hefting huge mounds of snow like they were nothing -- she smiled and began decorating their snowman. He stood about six feet tall, leaned precariously forward. She and Gren each plucked a button from their coats for the eyes and it wasn't until they'd done so that she realized the eyes were different shades of brown.

Julia caught her breath, pressed the back of her gloved hand to her lips, but waved off Gren's worry. She was fine, she insisted, and pulled a cigarette out of her pack and placed it where the snowman's lips would be.

"There. Now it's perfect." Perfect with its slouch and its mismatched eyes and ever-present cigarette. The ghost of a smile reached her lips; she rested her hand against the snowman's cheek, allowing herself just one moment of regret, of longing.

At her side, Gren nodded. He was perceptive and sensitive, she'd learned that much, so when he asked if she wanted to talk about it -- about _him,_ he said with a nod to the snowman -- she said yes.

Telling someone about Spike felt good. It was almost as cleansing as going to confession.

Almost.


End file.
